


You're the Wine that I Want

by WinterRaven



Series: Wine Him Up [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky has Endgame hair, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, graphic artist!Bucky, sommelier!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 06:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19126210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRaven/pseuds/WinterRaven
Summary: Bucky signs up for a sommelier course. Steve is the instructor. At the beginning of the first class, Steve asks everyone to introduce themselves and give the reason they're taking the introductory wine sommelier course. Bucky realizes he signed up for the wrong sommelier course.





	You're the Wine that I Want

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-prompt I came up with for the challenge: Bucky signs up for a sommelier course. Steve is the instructor.
> 
> It was a longer description which is now the summary so I figured I should be briefer for the prompt. This was fun to write. There are people I'd like to thank but I'll save it until after the author reveals.
> 
> Have fun reading it!
> 
> UPDATE: Now that the authors have been revealed, I just want to thank [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo) for the beta work. It was very much appreciated. 
> 
> I'd like to thank the Marvel Undercover mods for putting this together. It was fun writing for this challenge.
> 
> I would also like to announce that this fic is now part of the series I call _Wine Him Up_ and I hope to have a follow-up posted by the end of summer. Fingers crossed

Walking through the wine shop towards the back where the tasting room-turned-classroom was waiting for him, Bucky couldn’t help but gawk at the high ceilings, exposed brick walls, the blend of warm wood and neutral slate tile floors, and the layout of the place.

Aside from their vast selection of wine and hard liquor, there was a reason Black Iron Wines & Spirits was considered one of the top wine shops in New York City.

Considering the shop was nowhere near his regular subway route to and from work, this was his first visit to the store. He made a note to himself to drop by again when he had more time to truly browse through the store and take a peek at the spirits section because he had a weakness for vodka and tequila.

To be honest, Bucky wanted to look at the wine labels to see which ones had the most interesting design. He had designed a few labels for a California vineyard when he started out as a graphic designer for an ad agency but he knew he was still a little green around the gills when he created them. 

Several years later, having just started up his own small design firm with his two closest friends, Natasha, who looked after the company purse strings, and Sam, who oversaw the daily operations and the firm’s client roster, Bucky was happy to keep his nose in the actual design work, overseeing a pod of three graphic designers fresh out of college who carried impressive design portfolios.

Finally, he was allowing himself to learn something new, develop a fun pursuit that had nothing remotely to do with creating a brand for a new company or updating the brand for a company who had been around for years.

Walking into the room, six collapsible tables and twelve chairs had been set up and arranged in three rows of two tables, side by side. Seven people had seated themselves already so he planted himself at one of the tables in the back row. 

Three more showed up but none of them took the other seat beside Bucky. He mentally shrugged. He wasn’t offended. Actually, he was hoping he’d get the table to himself. He was a bit of a space hog. Others would have called him territorial. He pulled out a small notebook and pencil from his olive green messenger bag to doodle with until the class started.

Five minutes later, a thin blond man walked into the room with a leather and canvas messenger bag slung over his shoulder, folder in one arm and a bottle of orange juice in the other. But Bucky failed to see him. He was too engrossed in his doodling to notice.

“Good evening, folks,” he greeted pleasantly as he placed his bag, folder and juice on a cart near the podium and strolled around the room. “How is everyone this evening?”

Hearing the baritone voice, Bucky looked up to listen to everyone offer their answers. He blinked at the man, unable to say anything. 

Dirty blond hair, long enough to cover his eyes if he allowed it. Perfect cheekbones that could cut Bucky’s hand if he wasn’t careful. An elegant nose, although some folks would be tempted to say it was a little big. Regardless, it suited the man. The little bump below the bridge was perfect according to Bucky’s aesthetic sensibilities.

The wire frame glasses gave the man a professorial energy about him. He couldn’t discern the color of the man’s eyes. He needed a closer look and if the man could just walk in his direction, he’d be a happy boy. But he could see those eyes were framed so attractively by his long, thick eyelashes. The navy button-down shirt, black jeans and dark grey hiking shoes was a look that had Bucky salivating.

Plump lips, especially the lower lip. He could easily tug at them and bite them with his teeth. He was shorter and slimmer than Bucky. He looked delicate but the way he carried himself, he was willing to bet the man was stronger than most people would have anticipated. He was also willing to bet he wasn’t afraid to throw a punch.

Everything about the man ticked off ninety-five percent of all the boxes required in a romantic partner for Bucky. He needed to get to know the man before he could tick off the rest of the boxes.

Yeah, maybe he was a little smitten.

“My name is Steve Rogers. Welcome to the introductory sommelier course. I will be your instructor for the next nine weeks,” he smiled casually, picking up his folder. “And before we go any further, I think we should each introduce ourselves to the group. Let’s begin with your name, your occupation and the reason why you signed up for the wine sommelier course.”

Bucky furrowed his brows together in confusion. He quickly looked at the registration confirmation sheet he had slipped into his notebook. His eyes widened.

“This isn’t the cannabis sommelier course?” Bucky blurted out loud.

Silence filled the room before some of the course participants started giggling.

“Is there such a thing as a cannabis sommelier?” asked one of his classmates. 

Bucky didn’t know who asked the question but he answered it. 

“Yeah, there is. You can certify to be a cannabis sommelier online or attend the required classes in person.” 

“We’re in a wine shop,” another noted teasingly. “That didn’t tip you off that this was a wine sommelier course?”

Bucky’s cheeks burned. “No, I take full responsibility for my mistake.”

He hoped he didn’t sound too churlish. He wasn’t in the mood to endure anyone judging him for this particular interest. He had his fair share of smoking joints when he went to college but not so much after that. He simply thought it would be a fun bit of knowledge to learn.

•

Steve’s eyes met his. Puzzlement marked his face as he looked at the man who admitted to signing up for the wrong course.

His thought process temporarily sputtered to a stop the moment he had a good look at Bucky. His brain immediately registered long legs dressed in denim, the burnt orange button-up shirt, the strong jawline, the shoulder-length caramel brown hair, scruffy facial hair and clear grey eyes. Were they grey? He wasn’t sure given the room’s fluorescent lighting. He needed to do a closer inspection.

A quick appraisal of the man’s physical appearance led to a number of thoughts racing through Steve’s mind. But three jumped out at him like toddlers who had consumed way too much sugar.

First thought: _Jesus fucking Christ, seriously? I had a rotten weekend and was looking forward to starting fresh at the start of the week. I was looking forward to teaching and introducing the students to the world of being a wine sommelier and now I have to deal with an administrative fuck up? But holy shit, that guy is fucking hot.’_

Second thought: _What the fuck is wrong with the registration system, this is the fifth time someone incorrectly signed up for this course. Why is this course always mixed up with the weed one? Good grief… Jesus, he really is easy on the eyes._

And the third most predominant thought? _He’s too nicely dressed to be a pothead. Wait, that was uncalled for. I’m profiling the guy for no reason. Why am I doing this? I’m making bad assumptions. But he better not be a regular user. It’ll fuck up his taste palette. What the fuck is the state of his taste buds? What about his sense of smell? Is he even going to be able to discern the apples and vanilla in a chardonnay or taste the satiny finish of chocolate in a merlot? Goddamnit, he is fucking HOT! I bet I can top the hell outta him. God, he better let me pop his cork._

•

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from Steve. He watched as the man’s expression moved from one of confusion to agitation to the kind of interest that revealed itself only after consuming a few drinks. If it had been anybody else, Bucky would have ignored the interests of a hopeful suitor. 

But this was Steve and he didn’t want to ignore him. Not in the least. For a second, he panicked, thinking he had royally screwed up his first impression.

Smiling weakly, Bucky wondered how the room had quickly turned warm. Heat bloomed in his chest, spreading quickly up his neck and onto his face. He hoped he wasn’t turning beet red because of his mistake. 

Actually, it was Clint’s mistake. He was the one who had taken the course and had a blast with it. He was the one who convinced him it was a good idea to learn something different. He was the one who said he’d help him register for the course without any trouble at all. 

And he was going to chew him out for this one. Bucky swore under his breath for not checking the confirmation sheet before he made the trip to the wine shop. He felt like a fool for being too busy to handle his own registration and handing it off to his roommate. 

•

“And your name is… ” Steve grabbed the top sheet in his folder to look at a list of names of students who signed up for the course.

“James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky. I haven’t gone by James since fourth grade.”

Locating Bucky’s name, Steve looked up and regarded him thoughtfully. Bucky’s deep pink complexion was cute but he knew the man was horrifically embarrassed. While he took pity on the man, he didn’t want Bucky to drop out of the course. He wanted to see him at least eight more times. 

So, he did something he told himself he would never do when it came to having a student consider dropping out of the course. He bargained to get him to stay on. 

“Well, you could leave the course right now and contact the registration office tomorrow for a refund,” Steve began. “But I think you’ll enjoy learning about the world of wine. Why don’t you stick around for the first three classes? And if this course fails to stimulate your palette, I’ll make sure you get a full refund.” 

Steve watched Bucky’s eyes widen with surprise. He offered what he hoped was a beguiling yet challenging smile in an attempted to convince the man to stick with the course.

“That’s quite generous of you to make that offer,” Bucky smiled, speaking carefully. “You’re that confident I’ll learn something from you?”

“I have the designation of Master Sommelier and I was the youngest in the world to earn it,” Steve smirked. “Along with the rest of your classmates, I think you’ll have no problem learning a few things from me.”

Bucky bit his lower lip. “Okay, you’re on.”


End file.
